Good Lord in Heaven: Why?
by OboeNotClarinet
Summary: I attempt to patch up bad fanfictions from my junior high days, author's notes and all. Prepare to cringe. Prepare to gasp. Prepare to perform a cleansing ritual so that your soul may be at peace. Bad versions first, tolerable versions second. Enjoy?
1. Fowl Play: Original

**Hello everybody and welcome to the first chapter of Dark Magic! FIRST OF ALL: there will be absolutely NO ArtemisxVictoria shipping, nor will there be ArtemisxMinerva shipping (if you didn't read the summary, this is post-TTP and pre-TAC, you lazy bag of bones). Speaking of shipping, there might be some slight Victorence here, so...**

It was raining in Bellville. Victoria stared hard at the fifth story window of the five-star Hotel Bellville, fifth suite from the right _and_ the left, umbrella protecting her blonde curls. Normally she wouldn't have stopped, but something about the occupant of that particular room was bothering her. Ever since the visitor had arrived, the sky had churned, sending Mr. Tibbalt's dog, Gallagher, barking day and night.

She had been delivering a package to the hotel's manager from the librarian as a favor for her mother when she saw them. A huge mountain of a man dealing with the bellhop while a boy of about fourteen or fifteen stood next to him, looking uppity. At first Victoria was impressed by his suit and neatly combed hair, but as she chided herself for staring, something felt off about him. Maybe it was his mismatched eyes, or they way the large man took note of everything and everyone in the room. She had rushed out of the building after the pair had boarded the elevator, walking briskly and clicking her heels just _so._

Now she stood in the cold, wet atmosphere, squinting at the window of the visitors. Suddenly, she heard footsteps on the drenched pavement behind her, and she turned to see an umbrellaless Lawrence running up to her, his silver streak of hair amidst the uncombed black shining with drops of rain. As usual, his shirt was untucked and his shoes were untied. Also as usual, Victoria sighed.

"Honestly, Lawrence, can you even look tidy for five minutes?"

"No time, Vicky," he panted, using the nickname that Victoria viewed as the root of all evil. "Look."

Victoria glanced down to where Lawrence was pointing at the sidewalk, then danced away from a large black beetle with ten legs, sucking in a startled breath. The two watched it crawl up the side of the hotel to the fifth story window with difficulty, pelted by rivulets of rain. Lawrence frowned, confused, as Victoria's eyes widened.

"Oh, no," Victoria gasped, then dragged Lawrence into the hotel. She quickly walked up to the desk.

"Excuse me," she said to the clerk, smiling politely. "But what was the name of the young man who checked in this afternoon? My mother would like to send him a welcoming letter."

The clerk, knowing Victoria's mother and her mailbox mannerisms well, smiled back.

"Stefan Bashkir, and his uncle, Mr. Constantin Bashkir." she replied.

"Thank you very much," Victoria smiled wider and dragged Lawrence right back out again. "Lawrence, we're going to Nine Silldie Place. We may have a problem."

oOo

"Why are we here?" Lawrence asked for the millionth time, unflinching under Victoria's Demon Dazzle.

"Shhhhhh! Just watch the house," she whispered, staring hard at the windows of Nine Silldie Place. She saw a faint glow and her eyes widened. "Lawrence…"

"Yeah?"

"Have you noticed anyone disappearing lately?"

"Well, now that I think of it, I have. Those twin girls Mary and Susan, three boys named Mark, Bob, and Wade, and one other boy named Ross." He frowned. "Maybe…"

Victoria nodded, her memory refreshed, but already beginning to fade. It was happening again, just like the incident two years ago. Victoria remembered everything; the gofers, the classrooms, Mr. Alice, and especially the hanger. She shuddered, remembering her friend's hopeless expression as he hung helplessly. As long as her name was Victoria Wright, no one was going to suffer the same fate, strange boy or not. Lawrence had came to a similar conclusion and, glancing at his prim and proper partner in taking down evil bug-ladies, he decided right then and there that there was only one thing they needed to do…

 **oOo**

After Lawrence and Victoria had finished their hot chocolates at Missy's (a local shop useful for steaming beverages and the odd helpline) the pianist leaned on his elbows towards the perfectionist.

"Okay Vicky," he began, earning a Dazzle. "What's the plan?"

Victoria cleared her throat. "I'm glad you asked," she said, pulling out a neat set of bullet points and indented paragraphs.

"How in the world did you have the time to type all that?!" gaped Lawrence.

Victoria looked at him innocently. "You mean you don't have an emergency plan to escape and/or rescue someone from the Home just in case?"

Lawrence groaned inwardly, barely suppressing the urge to facepalm. _There is a fine line,_ he thought, _between prepared and mental._


	2. Fowl Play: Revised

**Hello everybody and welcome to what I was going to call "Dark Magic" but had labeled "Fowl Play" in my documents. I don't care if you ship Artemis with anyone in here - honestly if you can ship him in character go for it. This won't even get very far anyway…**

Rain dripped onto Bellville like a leaky showerhead. The streets glistened and gurgled as their edges became creek beds, the tall lamp posts caught falling drops in an orange beam. In the midst of this depressing weather stood one Victoria Wright, holding a lovely purple umbrella and staring hard at the five-star Bell Hotel. She squinted at one window in particular, on the fifth story, watching the slim shadow that moved there. Normally she would have scorned spying - after all it was nosy and low - but Victoria had a sneaking suspicion that this subject in particular was responsible for the awful weather and the persistent yapping of Gallagher, Mr. Tibbalt's dog.

She had seen the stranger once, when she delivered a handwritten reservation from her mother's cousin to the hotel manager. They had stood in front of her, checking in: a man so large Victoria couldn't see the receptionist, and a pale, snobby-looking boy who looked her over once and never looked again. Victoria was primarily impressed by his neat attire, but after that little incident decided she did not like him - no one dismisses Victoria Wright. After she delivered the letter, however, she caught the boy studying her as his burly companion boarded the elevator. Looking down her nose at him, Victoria had tossed her golden curls and walked briskly out of the building, her heels clicking just _so_.

 _Who does he think he is, anyway?_ she had thought. _His eyes aren't even the same colors._

She had just reached her front gate when a thought struck her. _What a peculiar and out-of-place boy._

Now she was standing in the cold, wet, rain, straining her eyes to try and figure out what was going on. She knew something was, or had to be. She could feel it.

Footsteps thudded and squelched on the drenched pavement behind her, and Victoria turned to see a disheveled Laurance Prewitt dashing down the street, shielding his head with a mathematics textbook. His shirt was untucked, his shoes untied, and of course, he had neglected to comb his jet black hair.

Victoria sighed. "Honestly, Lawrence, you could at least attempt to look decent."

"No time," Lawrence panted. "Had… to follow… the bug…"

He pointed at a big black beetle that darted past Victoria, who squealed and danced away. It shot across the hotel lawn and scuttled up the building, ten legs pumping, until it squirmed through the middle window on the fifth floor.

"Oh no," Victoria gasped. She grabbed Lawrence by the arm and yanked him down the front walk, marching straight through the front door (shaking off her umbrella, of course) and up to the front desk.

"Excuse me," she said to the clerk politely, putting on her best adult-impressing smile. "But could you please tell me the name of the man and the boy who checked in this afternoon? My mother would like to welcome them to Bellville."

The clerk, knowing all too well about Mrs. Wright and her love of letters, smiled back.

"Of course. They are Mr. Constantin Bashkir and his nephew, Master Stefan Bashkir, visiting from Russia on a business trip," she replied.

"Thank you very much." Victoria smiled wider and dragged Lawrence back outside.

He put his textbook back over his head and shivered from the cold. "Vicky, what's going on?"

Victoria ignored the horrid nickname and briskly walked down the street. "We're going to Nine Silldie Place," she said, shuddering. "I think we may have a problem."

oOo

"So you think this Stefan guy is in danger?" Lawrence stage-whispered.

"Shhhhhhhh!" Victoria hissed. "Just watch the house!"

The were peering over the front lawn fence of the last house before Nine Silldie Place, formerly the Cavendish Home for Boys and Girls and the lair of Mrs. Cavendish. Victoria shuddered as the memories trickled into her mind: the gofers, the classrooms, the hanger. She glanced at Lawrence, remembering the eternity he spent in that awful place. No, she decided, no one was going back to something like that, strange or not.

Lawrence, his gaze fixed on the house, stiffened suddenly and tapped Victoria's arm with the back of his hand. "Vicky, look! The windows!"

Victoria peered at the big old house, then gasped as she saw a faint yellow glow from the inside. She leapt up and grabbed Lawrence by the arm again, dashing back towards the hotel.

"Wait!" Lawrence cried. "Where are we going?!"

"We have to warn Stefan! He won't know what's coming!" Victoria shouted back.

They pounded up the hotel's front walk once more, burst through the doors, and shot past the front desk.

"IneedtospeakwithStefanBashkirthankyou!" shouted Victoria to the confused clerk.

"Wait!" she cried, but the pair had already gone up the elevator.

Victoria marched down the hall to the middle door, Lawrence in tow, and knocked three times. A conversation within paused, and heavy footsteps approached the door from the other side. In the brief silence, Victoria realized that Stefan's uncle was probably checking the peephole. Finally, the mahogany door opened.

Filling the doorway was Constantin Bashkir, looking down at Victoria and frowning.

"Who are you?" he asked with a Russian accent.

Victoria cleared her throat. "My name is Victoria Wright, and this is my friend Lawrence Prewitt. We need to speak with your nephew Stefan. It's urgent," she explained.

Mr. Bashkir's frown deepened. He opened his mouth to tell the two children to leave them be, but was stopped by a voice from within. Turning slightly, he answered in Russian, then moved out of the doorway. "Forgive my caution," he said. "Please, come in."

Victoria and Lawrence squeezed past the mountainous man, and looked around the posh hotel room. Stefan sat at a small table in the kitchenette, sipping tea from a white china cup. He set it down gently on a saucer with a _clink_ and studied the slightly damp pair. Victoria's violet umbrella dripped on the floor.

"Victoria Wright, yes?" he asked finally.

"Yes," said Victoria. "And Lawrence Prewitt."

Stefan nodded and rose to shake their hands. "I am Stefan Bashkir."

"Yes, we know. Pleasure to meet you," Victoria said impatiently. "We came to warn you, Stefan. We think you're in danger."

"Oh? What kind of danger?" Stefan inquired, raising an eyebrow.

"There's a house just a few blocks away, Nine Silldie Place. It's home to an evil - well I don't exactly know _what_ she is, but her name is Mrs. Cavendish. She takes peculiar children and makes them perfect angels."

"That doesn't sound so bad. Some children could use a bit of polishing."

"You don't understand, Stefan. It's not _normal_. The kids who come back are empty shells - oh, I'm not explaining this very well. Listen, Lawrence and I have been there. It's _awful_. If you're not corrected by the time you turn thirteen, Mrs. Cavendish turns you into a gofer."

"A small mammal?"

"No, not a gopher. 'Gofer' with an 'f'. An ugly little creature that she uses for errands and chores and… and lunch."

"Lunch?"

"Yes. She chops off their arms or hands and serves it as meat to the other children."

"Don't eat the yellow candies," Lawrence interjected.

Stefan crossed his arms. "There are many stories about evil headmistresses from students," he said warily. "And failing students becoming 'gofers' doesn't sound likely."

"Please, you have to believe me. She nearly killed us," Victoria protested. "I don't want anyone else going back to that horrid place."

Stefan remained silent, mismatched eyes sweeping over the two shivering children. He shared a look with his uncle, who gave an imperceptible incline of the head.

"Prove it," Stefan said to Victoria.

She blinked. "I'm sorry?"

"Prove to me that there really is evil in Nine Silldie Place, and I'll believe you."

Lawrence stood by his friend and whispered, "The bug, remember?"

"Right," she whispered back, then addressed Stefan. "Do you remember any bugs crawling through the window? Specifically a large, black beetle with ten legs?"

Constantin spoke. "There was one, yes. I threw it back out," he rumbled.

"That's one of Mrs. Cavendish's spies. They find odd children for her," Victoria explained. "I was carried away by a whole swarm of them when she took me."

Lawrence looked over his shoulder to study the window, wondering how the bug could've gotten in if it were tightly shut, then jumped back. "There! Bugs at the window, three of them!" he exclaimed, pointing. Victoria backpedaled, distancing herself, but Stefan strode forward and curled his lip in disgust.

"Uncle," he called to Constantin. "Kill these pests."

"Yes, nephew," the man replied, scooping up a shoe from a suitcase and bringing it down on one of the bugs so forcefully he almost broke off the windowsill. The beetle, screeching, ran in circles, but remained unharmed.

"I tried to tell you," Victoria whispered. "They're her agents. They can't be crushed."

Not to be deterred, Constantin grabbed all three beetles in one hand and flung them out the window, all the way down the street. They hadn't even landed when six more took their place.

"This is bad," Lawrence said, running a hand through the silver streak in his black hair.

Stefan watched as the bugs scouted around the window. "What happens if the child she takes is over the age of thirteen?" he asked quietly.

Victoria and Lawrence glanced at each other.

"We… we don't really know," the boy admitted.

Victoria nodded, and added, "I don't think she has. At least, none to correct and send back."

Stefan sat in an office chair at a desk across from the beds and crossed one leg over the other. He steepled his fingers, pressing his index fingers to his lips, thinking. Victoria thought he looked like a businessman.

"Can you describe Mrs. Cavendish to me?" he asked finally.

"She looks like any other sweet, motherly lady," Victoria began. "But the longer you stay the more sinister she looks. Right before we escaped she started looking like a bug."

"And _when_ you escaped?"

"She was enormous, monstrous -"

"- And definitely bug-like," Lawrence put in.

Stefan glanced sharply at his uncle. "A beldam," he murmured, then rose quickly from his chair. "Uncle, please escort our guests to the lobby. I need to contact my cousin, Alexis."

"Of course, nephew."

Mr. Bashkir guided Victoria and Lawrence out of the hotel room and into the elevator, riding it down with them and ushering them into the lobby. "Thank you for your concern," he said quietly. "My nephew and I will be quite safe."

Victoria frowned. "Well... you're welcome, but -"

"Goodbye," said Constantin. Victoria flashed him her most fearsome Demon Dazzle, but the man didn't flinch. Instead he turned and boarded the elevator, clasping his hands in front of him as the doors closed.

"How rude," huffed Victoria, turning and striding away. "We try to save his life and he sends us out."

Lawrence followed her, nearly tripping on his loose shoelace. "Maybe Stefan will believe us if he gets taken," he said sourly.

"Maybe. But let's hope that never happens - to any of us," Victoria replied. Exiting the hotel, she opened her umbrella and shared it with Lawrence. They walked home together, occasionally glancing back at the middle window on the fifth floor of Bellville Hotel.

 **Aaaaaaand that's it. Ta-dah. I didn't expect to get so invested in this one, but it is one of the better fics I wrote… If you somehow want more, let me know. I might just finish it anyway. Thanks for bearing with me.**


	3. Too Many Fandoms: Original

**This is my least favorite abomination. Please tear it apart.**

Two brunette twins stood with their backs to the wall, panting. The boy, Dipper, wore a navy blue vest, red shirt, grey shorts, and a blue and white hat with an aqua pine tree on the front. His sister Mabel wore a purple sweater with a brown teddy bear on it, paired with a pink skirt and headband. Both wore black shoes and tall socks, with variations based on gender. Dipper flipped furiously through the journal he always carried, its gold, six-fingered hand shining dimly in the uncertain light, highlighting a black number three engraved on the surface. "Nothing," he whispered, frustrated. "Absolutely nothing on big, scary animatronics." Suddenly, another kid dashed down the hallway, dressed in all black except for his blue t-shirt with a yellow "meh" face. His trench coat flew behind him and his scythe-shaped lock of hair bounced slightly as he ran to join the twins.

Mabel turned to him. "Dib, I thought you said they didn't go after kids!" she whisper-shouted.

"That's just what some random girl in a gray cloak told me before a draconequus opened a dimensional portal and they both disappeared!" he whispered back.

"Whoa, seriously?" Dipper stage-whispered as loud as he dared. "Are we talking Historian gray or Ranger gray?"

A terrified squeak from Mabel caused them to whip around, only to see a tall teenager put a gloved finger to his lips, an urgent expression on his face. He wore a white suit with a light blue dress shirt and red tie, white shoes, a white cape, white gloves, and a white top hat with a light blue ribbon. The glare of his monocle and his top hat covered one eye and most of his hair, but Mabel's matchmaker vision could make out short, dark hair and blue eyes currently losing their poker face charm.

"Calm down," he hissed. "It's just me!" Seeing their confused faces, he rolled his eyes, cursing the news and… jet lag? "Kaitou Kid?" he prompted. "Kid the Phantom Thief?"

Dipper's face lit up. "Oh, I know you! You're Japan's famous thief! … Um, what are you doing here?"

"Long story. I'll tell you later."

Suddenly, Toy Freddy's animatronic head popped around the corner. "Hi, boys and girl!" he said cheerfully. Everyone screamed except Kid (who was still trying to regain his status as master of the poker face), but all ran in the opposite direction for their lives. Kid, seeing that he was faster than the others, grabbed a conveniently placed serving cart from against the wall. "Get on!" he shouted, and the three twelve-year-olds complied.

Dib, in the strangely calm part of his mind, couldn't help noticing the thief's very slight Japanese accent.

Pushing with all the strength of the adrenaline coursing through his veins, Kaitou Kid rocketed down the main hallway and into the stage room. As Dipper frantically checked the room for other evil automatons, he heard a strangled cry, then felt the cart lose speed. Jerking his head around in panic, he watched, horrified, as Kaitou Kid was dragged into the shadows by Toy Freddy, losing his top hat in the process. Suddenly, Mabel gasped. "WAAAAAALL!" she screamed, pointing at the rapidly approaching white plaster. Dipper grabbed the hands of his sister and Dib, then leapt off the cart, crashing into some nearby chairs. The cart, now free of weight and propelled by the jump, sped into the wall with the sound of eleven cymbals being played by toddlers, crumpling slightly on impact.

 **Well thank heaven it ended. Move on, nothing to see here.**


	4. Too Many Fandoms: Revised

**I really don't know where I was going with this. In all honesty I tried to fit too many fandoms into one fic and it failed. Epically. Horribly. Disgustingly. I'm cringing as I'm rereading it - it's that bad. I almost didn't post it, but I felt it had to be done. Please, slay the beast from the previous chapter with all your negative criticism. I'm begging you.**

 **Enjoy?**

Dipper and Mabel sat in the small security office, terrified. Flipping furiously through the third Journal, Dipper sat on a sofa in the back. In front of him, Mabel perched on a rolling office chair, gripping her grappling hook.

"Come on, come on!" Dipper muttered. "How can there not be anything on killer animatronics? Hasn't the Author ever been to Hoo-Ha Owl's?"

"Well maybe he was a little busy trying not to get killed!" Mabel answered, aiming her grappling hook at the left-hand door as footsteps pounded down the hallway. A kid with a big head and a black trench coat skidded into the room, slamming his fist on a button in the wall and closing the door. Something outside pounded at the metal.

Dib shook his fist at it. "Go away you stupid fox! We don't want your Girl Scout cookies!"

"Yeah!" Mabel put in, then turned and shrieked, firing her grappling hook at the right door button to shut out the chicken that had appeared.

"Okay," Dipper rambled. "Okay, we're trapped in a pizza place and the friendly singing animals want to murder us. Just another normal day, ha ha… Man I hope we don't die."

"Not helping, Dipper!" Mabel said, keeping an eye on the chicken - or was it a duck? Dib stretched on his toes and nabbed a tablet from the desk, causing an avalanche of loose paper in the process.

"Not good," the scythe-haired kid warned. "It's three a.m. and we're already at 50 percent power."

"What's that supposed to-"

Mabel cut off her question and fearfully looked at the ceiling. "Do you guys hear that?" she whispered.

The three kids fell into silence, listening to a soft thumping sound as something crawled through the vents. Dipper had the calm notion that maybe he should move out from under the grate. It creaked, and the boy dove out of the way, clutching the Journal, as the grate burst open and something large and white fell onto the couch. The trio watched it warily.

"It's just a teenager," Dib whispered. "Wearing a white suit… that's weird."

"Really? We might die in discount Chuck E. Cheese's and _that's_ weird?" Dipper hissed.

On the sofa, the white-clad teen groaned and sat up, clutching his head. He cursed in another language and glanced around the room. In the center were three kids, watching him: two boys and a girl in a swivel chair, aiming a grappling hook at him. He raised his hands in a peaceful gesture. The girl gasped, lowering the grappling hook and staring at him as if he'd grown another head. He glanced at his right hand and cursed again. Blood stained the white glove.

"He's hurt!" Mabel cried, jumping down and rummaging through the desk drawers. She tugged a first-aid kit out of one and, before Dipper could stop her, climbed onto the couch where the teen was sitting. "I'm Mabel," she smiled.

The teen blinked at her. "Kaito," he replied. Her grin widened and she opened the first-aid kit, grabbing a sterile wipe and dabbing at the blood running down Kaito's face. He winced as she cleaned the cut, alcohol stinging, but sat still.

"That's better," she said cheerfully. She dug around in the kit again, frowning at the lack of kitten-studded band-aids, and pulled out a roll of gauze. She began to chatter as she wrapped it around Kaito's head.

"I guess it's pretty weird for some really nicely dressed guy to fall out of a vent in a creepy pizza place, but hey - this lil' town isn't far from Gravity Falls so like, I'm not surprised or anything. We've seen a _lot_ weirder. Like that one time Dipper felt his manliness being challenged so he went and spent like four hours with some manotaurs but ended up just coming back with a new friend to sing _Disco Girl_ by sensational Icelandic pop group BABBA…"

Dib's head bobbed up from the tablet. "Wait, what?"

"Yeah," Mabel continued, ignoring her twin's embarrassed protests. "They totally wanted him to go out and kill the Multibear but it turns out that all the manotaurs just really hate BABBA. It makes them feel like going to prom."

"Did you say… _man_ otaurs? Don't you mean _min_ otaurs?"

"No, trust me, these guys smelled like a bachelor pad and a biker gang had a macho luchador baby."

Mabel pinned the gauze in place, stuck on a sticker with a star that grinned from behind the glittery words "TOTALLY RAD!", and jumped off the couch to admire her work. The oddly-well-dressed teen caught her infectious smile.

"Thank you," he said, placing a hand over his heart and bowing slightly.

Mabel's grin widened at his Japanese accent. "Oh, a foreigner! How exotic!" she gushed. Dipper scowled from the right door, slamming it shut in the bear's face with barely a glance.

"Mabel, not is not the time to go boy-crazy. We're fighting for our lives!"

"Psshhhhh, don't be silly. I'm not being boy-crazy, I'm just appreciating culture!"

Dipper's reply, which probably would have sounded much more witty and scathing in his head, never made it past his lips as a scream took over. The rabbit had breached the office.

oOo

Kaito cursed his luck. First he had to make a reputation-damaging escape from the police because of that stupid pint-sized detective, then he had to squirm away from the evil chicken (duck?) that _definitely_ wanted to eat him, and now he was stuck in a very small office space with very loud children and a very much murderous purple bunny rabbit.

He was about to pull a last-minute smoky getaway with the kids when the girl, Mabel, screamed what Kaito assumed to be the words "GRAPPLING HOOK!". Mainly because that was what she used to punch a hole in the rabbit's chest and bring flying into the closed door behind her. Kaito was impressed.

In the surprised pause that followed, the thief grabbed the big-headed kid and chucked him up into the vent above the couch. He went back for Mabel's twin, lifting him under his arms.

"Wait! Mabel!" the boy cried.

Kaito threw him bodily into the vent. "Right behind you!" he said. "Go to the door!"

 _Of course now all the English I learned is reduced from "head towards the entrance" to "go to the door",_ the thief thought dryly. Mabel finally dislodged her grappling hook, squeaking in surprise when Kaito scooped her up and tossed her into the vent. He climbed up after her, halfway there when a mechanical hand gripped his leg. He cried out, gloved hands slipping on the metal of the air duct as he scrabbled for a grip. Mabel, turning sharply, lunged and grasped his arm, Dipper gripping her leg, and Dib holding on desperately to the other boy's shoes. Kaito, still slipping, felt incredibly calm.

He looked at Mabel, made eye contact. " _Gomen-nasai,"_ he said, and flicked his wrist clear of her hand.

"No! Wait! No!" Mabel screamed, scrambling to the lip of the air duct and peering into the security office.

Kaito had landed on the couch, face to face with Freddy Fazbear, being dragged by the ankle. The big brown bear hinged open its maw, wide-eyed. Kaito saw his chance and whipped out his card gun, firing an ace of spades directly into the mech's circuitry. The thief zoomed back up into the vent and practically shoved the kids all the way to the front entrance, sending them sliding down a duct and tumbling into the night air through a grate hidden by badly-trimmed square hedges. The foursome sat in mulch in a dazed huddle, watching angry, sparking animatronics pounding on the locked front doors.

They made it. They survived.

Kaito sighed in relief, leaning on the rough wall of the pizzeria. He fished a ruby out of his pocket, amazed it was still there, and held it up to the moon. No dice - it wasn't Pandora. He shrugged, letting his hand drop, and wondered how he would get rid of the gem this time. Then he noticed three eager faces staring at him. Kaitou Kid grinned.

oOo

"Whaddaya mean 'he gave it to you'?!" Grunkle Stan exclaimed, gawking at the giant red ruby that his great-niece had just given to the police.

"I _mean_ he _gave_ it to me," Mabel replied for the thousandth time, tracing her finger along the edge of a queen of hearts card. Stan just shook his head. Pity she'd turned it in, they could've made some serious cash off that sucker. Ah well, at least her heart was in the right place.

Meanwhile, Inspector Nakamori scratched his head in front of the Fazbear stage. The star of the establishment, Freddy, had on a white silk top hat with a blue satin ribbon and a monocle to match. The hat was a bit bloodstained, and just a few minutes after the police arrived - with Nakamori's daughter and her childhood friend in tow - Kid had _somehow_ taped a note to the bear's chest. The Inspector leaned in to reread the message. No heist plan, no surrender. Just these strange words:

 _Don't feed them after midnight._

 **And so ends the monstrosity. Ta dah. I did it. Yay me. Anywho, you know how it goes: roast the first one, crit the second, and if you somehow want more of a certain story, just PM me. Sickos.**


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